Dodgeball, and how it will turn you into a bumbling doofus

Had to share this little story with you guys. I want to build a bit of a background story just so you guys get a gist of how truly fascinating being able to witness this was for me.

My older brother hadn’t been back home in quite a while. As a man in his mid twenties he had way better things to do such as finishing college, building a career and overall just establishing himself as an adult. It was of no surprise that although his face had changed in symmetry and he had earned himself a couple laughter lines these couple years he was still the same put together and reserved guy that left home four years ago. I had asked him to come along with me to the last day of  Summer Camp where I volunteer as head counselor  knowing that kids would be wild and energetic.

The theme of our final activity was dodgeball and my team was the “fairy princesses”. I was dressed in a tutu and fairy wings and although my brother fought me on it he decided to play along wearing a bright red boa with pink dots. It was required, as counselors, for us to arrive early and make sure everything is setup properly  and smooth for when the kids arrive. In the midst of running around and getting everything set up I hear a loud scream. “LOOK OUT!”. We all duck and freeze.I hear a pinging noise but  I look around and see nothing. As I turn my head to the right I see my brother standing about 400 feet from me , wary, with his back towards me. I call his name and he immediately raises his hand in the air as to dismiss my attention “I’m fine” he peps, I call at him again and as he turns around and leans forward I see the blood starting to gush from his forehead on to the ground. “I’m fine!!”.

Sitting in the waiting room I knew that if there was ever a time to blame someone for the absence of my brother for the next four years to follow, it would be now. Eight stitches and generous amount of solpadol and codeine later,  the doctor came out and allowed us in his room. My mom dramatically runs over to his side bursting into tears grabbing she grabbed his hand and breaking into ranted spanish prayer. My father was left unimpressed and insisted Neosporin could’ve gotten the job done. Me? I could only stare in disbelief at the grown man still wearing a florescent boa, now covered in what I can only imagine could be dry blood.

As I walk towards him he looks up at me and takes a second before he opens his mouth, instead of speaking he burst into the most intoxicating laugh. Me and my parents all stare at him confused. “You.. You look like Santa” he manages to slip out, now holding his abs as he tries to contains himself. I stop and look down only to notice I’m still wearing the tutu and fairy wings. Ouch. Guess I deserved that… at least it was nice knowing that whatever dosage of goodies they had given him there wasn’t a trace of pain in sight and that maybe it isn’t a coincidence that that one myspace character description test six years ago wasn’t mistaken when it described me as holly and jolly.


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